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gravel, Cam glanced over to see Pete pull into a parking space in a dark unmarked car. Just in time. Thank goodness he hadn’t brought a cruiser. Pete, in gray slacks and a navy blazer, walked up to the three of them.
    Greta cocked her head at him. “Friend of yours?” she asked Cam.
    â€œYes,” Cam said, her gaze on Pete. She could hear Dasha barking from the truck across the parking lot. He must have spied his human.
    â€œExcuse me, Ms. Laitinen. I’m State Police Detective Peter Pappas. I’m afraid I have some very bad news.” He stood with his hands clasped in front of him, and his dark eyes were more somber than Cam had ever seen them.
    â€œA detective? What news?” Greta barked out a laugh. “Is this more about those fool vandals? I told Wayne he ought to just shoot them next time.”
    The younger woman watched Pete with worried eyes. “Mom, I don’t think he’s talking about the vandals.”
    â€œIf we could step over here.” He ushered them to an outdoor seating area at the side of the building where four round cement tables were surrounded by curved benches. Since it was in the shade on the north side, soft mounds of snow still topped the tables. Cam followed slowly. Pete had asked her to stick around, but this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation.
    â€œNo, I’m not talking about the vandals,” Pete said. “I’m afraid Wayne has—”
    â€œWhat’s that idiot done now? I’ll bet he ran his foot over with the manure spreader, or got knocked down by the cow.” Greta folded her arms.
    Megan winced, but Greta didn’t seem to notice. Cam winced, too, inwardly, at Greta’s insensitivity to her daughter. Cam took a step back. Maybe she shouldn’t even be here. Pete glanced at her and made a little stop motion, so she stayed.
    â€œOr did he find one of those stupid protesters and slug them in the mouth?” Greta asked. “It’s what they deserve.”
    A well-dressed older couple strolling past the seating area glanced at Greta with an alarmed look and then walked briskly toward their car. Megan shivered and hugged herself.
    Pete didn’t speak until the couple was out of earshot. “Ma’am, I’m very sorry. Your husband was found dead this morning.” He reached out and touched Greta’s arm.
    Greta’s eyes widened and her daughter gasped.
    â€œDead?” the daughter asked. “Daddy’s dead?” She looked from Pete to Cam and back to Pete.
    â€œThat can’t be.” Greta drew out her words. “I left him eating the breakfast I cooked him. He was fine. He was alive. Fine.” She shook her head, looking into the distance as if she could conjure him up. A spot under her eye twitched with a fast beat.
    â€œWas it a heart attack?” the daughter asked in an anguished tone. “I kept telling him to stop eating bacon, but he never listened to me.”
    â€œWe don’t know,” Pete said. “I’m so very sorry to have to tell you. We’ve been trying to reach you, and your son, as well.”
    Pete did look sorry. What a hard thing to have to do, to notify a family someone had died. Cam was glad she’d decided not to tell them herself.
    â€œMy phone was off because we were in church.” Megan scrabbled in her purse and drew out her phone, then pressed the On button.
    â€œMy son’s away. Took my grandchildren to Florida this morning. Disney. We were out to breakfast and then at church. Anyway, maybe it’s a mistake.” Greta shook her head with a quick move. “Maybe he just fainted or something.”
    â€œIt’s not a mistake,” Pete said softly.
    Greta swayed. She reached back and grasped the edge of the closest table, her knuckles turning white. Megan embraced her mother, arms clasped tight. A sob burst out of Megan and she buried her head in Greta’s shoulder. Several customers gazed